Vocabulary and Flowers
by JustLu
Summary: Entry for the "Bloody Hell!" Challenge by WeasleySeeker. Ron is at a loss for words.


**A/N: For the "Bloody Hell!" Challenge by WeasleySeeker. Enjoy and review! Ok? :)**

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**Vocabulary and Flowers**

"Bloody hell!" Ron says, pacing up and down the long corridor.

He's sweating heavily now and has to resist the urge to pull out strands of his own red hair. What other way does he have to relieve the stress besides that or biting his nails? He won't do either, of course. The blood drains from his face when he hears Hermione scream. He doesn't want to be here, anywhere else but here, he thinks and his fist meets the roughness of the wall. The wall is unharmed in contrast to his knuckles, throbbing with pain. But it's alright, pain brings him closer to Hermione and he can handle pain for her. There's not much else he can do anyway.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaims after another scream has pierced the silence of the night. How many hours have passed really? He's lost count. If only he had remembered to wear his watch -the watch Hermione had given him- he would know what time it was. Is time important though, in the middle of all this? He paces some more; he can't just sit there, as if he's the most relaxed person in the world! He finds the spot on the wall he punched earlier. There's a little bit of blood on it, that's how he knows it's the same spot. In a trance, he examines his knuckles and finds dried blood on them as well. _Huh,_ he thinks and when he hears yet another scream, "Bloody hell!" whispers Ron.

Another hour -or so they tell him- has passed and he's much less scared because Hermione has stopped screaming. He's not sure what that means but he's hoping it's a good thing. Strangely enough, the silence begins to bother him. At least, when she's screaming, he knows she's alive. Now, why did he have to think about that? Of course she's alive! She's fine! Ron tries to remember how to breathe. It isn't easy. "Bloody hell!"he says and his voice sounds weird, like maniacal laughter. It's the voice of a man about to lose his mind. He doesn't have the privilege of breaking down now, he has to be strong and strong he will be, even if it kills him. Suddenly, Hermione screams again and he's as solaced as he is terrified.

Ron barely notices Harry through his foggy vision and his ears can't really make out what his friend is saying. All he cares about is Hermione and the moment he can see her and hear her talk to him, in a normal voice. Harry pats his shoulder and attempts a smile. His eyes look so tired under his glasses and Ron wants to laugh. He should be tired too, except there isn't a single cell in his body that can register fatigue. Heavy as a rock and light as a feather at the same time, his feet carry him away from the corridor on their own accord and he's thankful for the initiative. He can't use his body yet. Maybe later, maybe after he's seen Hermione, he can breathe normally, without having to think about it. Right now, any of his body's basic functions seem strained. _What the hell is wrong with me_, he wonders,_ I've been through worse than this_...

When he finally sees Hermione, she's smiling. The expression on her face tells him that she's exhausted, yes, but happy. He doesn't recall having seen her look this happy before. Ron wants to smile back but he can't. He wills himself to smile. Nothing happens. Because he still remembers the screams and the blood in his veins is reluctant to move about as usual and he just feels so cold...

"Harry, what did you do to my husband?"Hermione asks with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Nothing, I swear!"Harry protests. "He's been like that for hours! Hasn't said anything except _bloody hell_, over and over."

As if he's been waiting for his cue, Ron looks at Hermione and utters the same words again. "Bloody hell, Hermione!" She throws back her head and laughs and he takes a few shy steps towards her, unable to think of any other words, any other sentence as he tries to accept the odd image his wife is presenting him with. He can hardly believe the next thing she says.

"Would you like to hold your daughter now?" She smiles again and offers him the small bundle she's been holding. _Why isn't it moving_, he wonders, _it's so still_. His arms stretch out, trembling as Hermione deposits the little package in them and for a moment he's afraid that he's going to drop it and break it but it's so warm at the touch that all his fears vanish in an instant. "Bloody hell!"he almost shouts when he takes a look at his daughter.

Has sleep ever looked as wonderful, as angelic as it seems spread on her tiny face? Have miniscule noses and lips and fingers and toes always had the power to make a grown man cry? Because he's crying, not sobbing, crying, as quietly as possible for fear he might wake her. And is she real, that little miracle in his arms or is he dreaming?

"Bloody hell!"he mumbles, feeling weak and unimportant, devastated by her beauty.

"You know, Ron, there **are** other words in the english language."Hermione tells him, weeping a little herself.

"Yeah..."he says dreamily, slowly regaining his ability to speak and form coherent phrases. "Yeah, I know... I seem to be lacking in that department right now..."

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"his wife asks.

Beautiful... Yes, that she is. Magnificent. Delicate and fragile and beautiful, like a flower. Like a-

"Rose."he says under his breath.

Hermione's eyes widen and travel back and forth, from her husband to their daughter. The name sounds so fitting, so... right and she can't stop herself from smiling when she replies "Well, bloody hell, Ron!".

And this time, Ron smiles back, as the world falls into place.


End file.
